


Coda 1x08

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 1x08 coda, Ficlet, Gen, coda fic, grumpy dad mando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: Mando worries he’s played this entirely wrong. In trying to protect the child, he’s bound to ruin him. To put him in danger without meaning to, all in an attempt to do right by him. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but each day Mando thinks it was made out of adrenaline and desperation. Despite the signet on his armor that says he must, he’s ever more convinced he can’t do this. Not alone.He can’t even keep the child in his seat.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 151





	Coda 1x08

**Author's Note:**

> How did I even get here?
> 
> Thank you to Chandra for the beta read!

The child won’t stay in his seat.

After they leave Navarro, he’s no longer content to sit in his basket. Mando tries to find ways to strap him in. It’s a safety issue, he tells himself, but nothing seems to keep him in place. He’s restless these days, unable to settle.

They both are.

“You have to stay there,” he tells the child, unscrewing the shifter knob and handing it to him. It only ever works for awhile, and then he finds the child out of his seat again, wandering around the cockpit.

They only make brief stops, and only then for necessities. Mando needs to keep them moving, keep them from being detected. Somewhere along the way, though, the child has picked up a stick. One day, suspicious of the quiet when the child stays in his seat for an unusual length of time, Mando looks over his shoulder. He finds that the child has balanced the knob on the end of the stick. He can’t hold it that way, of course, so he clutches it by the stick, “shifting” it with his right hand, same as Mando.

_That is not the way,_ Mando thinks, barely stopping himself from saying it out loud. He feels his face redden and has to turn his head away, putting one hand to the outside of his helmet like that will help.

He doesn’t know what’s changed. Maybe it’s the lack of distractions now that the two of them are on their own. Most likely the child needs more than he’s able to give. More teaching, more care. Better role models, that much is for sure.

Mando worries he’s played this entirely wrong. In trying to protect the child, he’s bound to ruin him. To put him in danger without meaning to, all in an attempt to do right by him. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but each day Mando thinks it was made out of adrenaline and desperation. Despite the signet on his armor that says he must, he’s ever more convinced he can’t do this. Not alone.

He can’t even keep the child in his seat.

He’s roused from his thoughts by the child moving into his field of vision, back out of his seat and standing at Mando’s knee.

“You have to--” he begins yet again, ready to replace him in the basket, but the child grabs onto the shifter and the ship jolts violently, flinging the child into his side. Swearing, Mando scoops the child up and corrects the steering. The child leans his head against Mando’s chest, his small body molded into him. Mando wonders how he can feel his little heart beating even through his armor. It’s...comforting.

It’s his own heartbeat, he realizes. Soothed by the tiny, warm weight in his lap.

“All right. You win.”

The child coos once, then rests comfortably.


End file.
